Of Time
by Ananke
Summary: Twenty-two years after Voyager's return, Janeway and Chakotay reunite at a New Year's Starfleet commencement ceremony. J/C, C/7.


Title: Of Time  
Author: RoseKira@aol.com or kiraananke@hotmail.com  
Series: VOY Rating: PG-13  
Disclaimer: All characters herein owned by Paramount Studios and other  
entities. No copyright  
infringement intended.  
Archive: Yes.  
Summary: Twenty-two years after Voyager's return, Janeway and Chakotay reunite  
at a New Year's  
Starfleet Academy commencement ceremony. This is the result of a  
Voyager_Romance New Year's  
challenge.  
---  
Time is the fire in which we burn.  
-Soran, Star Trek: Generations  
---  
---  
Forgiveness is the final form of love.--Reinhold Neibuhr  
---  
  
Still on the run.   
  
I suppose that's how I always thought of Chakotay after our arrival home. He  
never settled, hadn't before  
Voyager, hadn't on Voyager. I saw no reason to assume he would after Voyager.   
  
I was blind. Captain's gaffe translated into Admiral's gaffe.   
  
I could've easily disproved my theory before it settled in, naturally, could've  
looked him up, asked the  
right people at Starfleet where he was and what he was doing. They knew. He  
lived in the shadow of his  
former betrayal, and wasn't about to be allowed to forget it. Starfleet watched  
him. It didn't crimp his  
style, not from what I've recently learned.  
  
I rediscovered him through a third party, an innocent third party, at your  
typical Academy  
commencement. I had given the speeches before, one of my least favorite roles  
as returned hero, but I  
gave them. Vowed that one would be my last.   
  
Not so typical. The ceremony brought in a new year, old Earth standard, the  
scheduling seemed a  
romantic touch, to those Terran enough to recognize the significance.   
  
The third party...not Terran, but of humanity. Her eyes were shining, moist  
beacons as she took in the  
fireworks. She stood among the cadets, wearing her new Ensign's bars  
gracefully. Her height caught me  
at first, a good couple of inches above your average young woman. The features  
drove the stake in next.  
Straight, dark hair piled neatly, offsetting pale skin. Her eyes were blue,  
Nordic blue, and her lips were  
his, softened. Her smile his, brightened.   
  
The nagging familiarity might've been brushed off, I was quite good at it, had  
it not been for my sighting  
of Tom Paris. B'Elanna Torres. The Doctor. Tuvok. Harry. Hell, the whole damned  
crew, watching her as if  
she were some sort of descending queen as she shook my hand and strode off the  
stage hours later. To  
my eternal credit, I didn't blink, continued the ceremony, turned out a fine  
group of unscarred Ensigns for  
the Fleet.   
  
I caught Tuvok backstage, touched his arm. "Don't try to pass her off as your  
collective holiday orphan."  
  
He merely nodded. "You did not note her name, Admiral?"  
  
Well, no, I hadn't. I'd been busy biting my tongue.   
  
He sighed, barely, and took me aside. "Ensign Ysalane Hansen. Born and raised  
in the former  
demilitarized zones, a colony world. Chakotay serves as civilian liaison to  
Starfleet there, and Lieutenant  
Commander Annika Hansen as colony commander. The colony in itself draws little  
attention, I would not  
expect you to know of it."  
  
Nothing nicer than a double-edged remark from a Vulcan. Mind your fleet,  
Admiral, and forget your  
friends. Something to that effect. I ignored him. "Are Chakotay and Seven  
present?"  
  
"I believe Chakotay is." His gaze settled on me, all Vulcan warning. "Commander  
Hansen could not be  
spared from duty."  
  
"Tuvok, go serve the punch." It was as tart a retort I could manage, and one I  
already knew wouldn't faze  
him. "I simply want to give my congratulations, and catch up. You apparently  
came for the same reason."   
  
"Ysalane is my goddaughter." I swear, he got sharper as he got older. "Not to  
attend would be impolite.  
Illogical. I am an acquaintance from her childhood."  
  
And I wasn't.  
  
I left him then, with a shoulder pat, before I got myself into more trouble  
with Vulcan verbal sparring  
than it was worth. Ysalane had faded into a corner, adjusting her uniform neck  
for the new rank bar,  
and...none other than the devil himself was helping. He was older, grayer, and  
it seemed a  
heartbreakingly paternal moment. I almost walked away. Almost. His upward  
glance caught me, stunned,  
wary, embarrassed. Giving the collar one last tug, the Ensign straightened,  
following his glance and  
snapping to attention so quickly she had to use him for balance. "Admiral." Her  
tones were low, soft,  
husky, not unlike either of her parents.  
  
"Ensign Hansen." Did I emphasize the name? Perhaps. He straightened as well,  
meeting my gaze with the  
same formality as a current Starfleet officer would've. "I wanted to offer my  
personal congratulations.  
Your parents were both valued members of my crew at one time."  
  
Damn. That hadn't sounded right, and I knew it. Chakotay had shaken off the  
discomfort, brow climbing.  
Ysalane merely nodded, formally, eyes dancing to take in both of us. "They've  
spoken well of you,  
Admiral Janeway."  
  
"Sala." Chakotay's timbre broke the platitudes. "Paris wanted me to direct you  
his way."  
  
"I'll go now. Excuse me, ma'am." She nodded quick recognition of the dismissal,  
walking back into the  
crowd.   
  
I turned back to Chakotay, meeting his gaze. "Fine young offering to the  
sacrificial cause."  
  
He nodded, eyes sparkling. "I tried to convince her not to do it. You know  
these kids today..."  
  
Enough. "You should have told me, Chakotay. I could have been there. No recruit  
from the colonies has  
an easy way of it..."  
  
"She got by on her own merits." His eyes flickered with disappointment. "No  
petting by an Admiral. She  
had all the support net she needed...friends, family. We raised her not to do  
anything less."  
  
"I'm sure you did." Taunt. When had I become so vituperative, I didn't want to  
be. I tried for levity. "The  
fireworks are starting up again."  
  
He caught my gaze, brows furrowing. "Indeed."  
  
We walked then, slipping away from the crowds, past Tuvok's probing gaze,  
beyond Torres headshake.  
"You daughter seems to have it all in front of her, Chakotay. But then, how  
could I expect anything else?  
She had all the Starfleet support she needed. Her mother, colony commander."  
  
"Kathryn, don't."   
  
And I didn't. I couldn't stop myself from the sarcasm, heaven knows, but he  
certainly still had the power.  
"Tell your wife I'm proud of her. I mean that, no buts attached."  
  
"I believe you. So will she." He stopped us then, taking my elbow and guiding  
me to a solitary bench,  
hidden among the trees. Not wholly unlike the New Zealand penitentiary grounds  
that long ago day,  
familiar enough to draw a smile. "Getting her to accept a commission was a feat  
of itself, but once she  
agreed, she found it satisfying. With the colony, Seven has just enough command  
and freedom to suit her  
nature."  
  
"No attempt at a starship?"  
  
"No starship for either of us, Kathryn." He shook his head. "We had our share.  
Dirt and dust and a solid  
planet under our heels. All we wanted."  
  
"I admire that ease with nature and settling." And I did. Even after Voyager  
had arrived home, there had  
been no golden rest stop for me...just constant moving, constant change,  
immersion in the rat race. Our  
core differences, right there, I suppose. His very roots had led him back to  
the life he had once  
abandoned, Seven's experiences with the colder facets of technology and  
progress, likewise. My  
childhood, growing up, entire existence had groomed me to be the constant  
stargoer, the eternal officer.  
And I was. Not a bitter realization, no, just a resigned one. We could never  
have made it together. Not  
without destroying the best of each other. "But why give up the commission? Why  
not go for a planetary  
co-op?"  
  
His glance was wry. "I'm not Starfleet, Kathryn. Never really was, though I did  
a fine job of thinking so as  
a youth. Being a civilian has given me a great many thing retaining Starfleet  
never would have...the  
freedom to attend my daughters commissioning, for instance. When I left the  
colony, Seven was knee  
deep in problems and frustrated as hell, but she couldn't be spared. It's her  
responsibility. Ysalane  
happens to be mine when Starfleet says Seven isn't available."  
  
Touché. The silence immediately chilled, but he broke in awkwardly. "Come visit  
sometime. Sala's first  
leave will be in a few months. She'd like to get to know you. You influenced  
her."  
  
"Perhaps." Ensign Hansen seemed too bright, too glowing, to have formed herself  
in my likeness. I had  
never looked or felt that self-confident. Go have coffee with eyes of past and  
might have been absorbing  
my disintegration? No, I hadn't been very good at visitations of late, the rest  
of them were proof of that.  
My former crew was quite the family. Without the captain holding them together.  
So it should remain.  
  
"I see." His gaze said very well that he knew I wouldn't come, wouldn't  
contact. Sadness, there, and  
regret, mirrored in my own emotions. Distantly, a klaxon blared, startling us  
apart. His smile dipped.  
"Welcome to the twenty-fifth century, Kathryn." He stood, grandly offering a  
hand, pulling me up,  
saluting. "Admiral."  
  
"Chakotay." It was a hollow dismissal for a hollow leave-taking, but at least  
the tension, the nagging  
question, regret was gone. We had seen the shape of what we had become. Quite  
enough. The past-best  
left there, where the colder facets of life need never intrude upon warmer  
memory.   
  
The fireworks faded.  
  
I don't know if he looked back after taking the approaching Ysalane's elbow and  
walking away.   
  
To my eternal amazement, I did not. 


End file.
